


Wending Home by Dusk

by oneill



Category: The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneill/pseuds/oneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the fic_promptly prompt: The Wind in the Willows, Rat & Mole, Rat hoped that Moley wasn't about to cry, because his will was already caving by the second.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wending Home by Dusk

'O, Ratty, _do_ let me try just once!' cried the Mole.

He had tried so very hard to be still and patient, and to content himself to watch the Water Rat as he loaded the bright pistol, and tested its weight, and sighted down its barrel at the clay targets that sat nestled in the crooks of tree branches, or half-hidden in the sedge, or else propped up by carefully moulded mounds of earth, and which shattered with a most satisfying crack and clatter when struck. But the longer he watched his friend, and heard the resounding thunderclap of the pistol, the more restless the Mole grew, until at last he leapt to his feet and fairly danced in place, so great was his fervour.

'What, fire a pistol?' said the Rat. 'Silly beggar, that's far too dangerous a thing to try lightly. Practice with a cudgel for a bit more first, and once you've become a dab hand at that, we'll see about pistol lessons.'

'Practice with a _cudgel_ ,' said the Mole pettishly. ' _You_ practice with a cudgel, Rat, and let me try the pistol. What can be so very dangerous about shooting at bits of clay?'

'What can be so dangerous!' cried the Rat. 'A thousand things can go wrong in firing a pistol, you thick-headed animal, and you would get far worse than a soak in the River at the end of it, I assure you! What can be so dangerous, _indeed_.'

The Mole subsided at once, and hunched his poor shoulders and made himself very small. He wrung his fore-paws miserably and said, 'O dear! I'm making a silly ass of myself again, aren't I, Ratty? Of course you know best—you _are_ so very wise—and of course if you say a thing is too dangerous, then it must be.' He sighed and hung his head, the very image of contrition.

The Rat felt his resolve waver at the sight, and hoped very much that the Mole would not cry, and worried that he _would_ , being the tender-hearted animal that he was. He made himself to chuckle heartily as he patted the Mole on the shoulder and said, 'That's all right then, old chap, so long as you understand! Now then, how would you like to try holding it?'

'O, Ratty, _may_ I?' said the Mole, snuffling and swiping his sleeve across his nose. 'Are you quite, quite sure?'

'I can see no harm in that, at least,' replied the Rat cheerfully. He popped open the pistol, carefully removed the bullets, closed it up again, and held it out to the Mole. 'Go on, then. See how it suits you, Mole, old chap.'

The Mole felt the pistol suited him quite well, and he spent the rest of the afternoon whipping it around to point with a flourish at an invisible stoat that skulked within the shadows of a copse, or else an unseen fox that slunk behind the gorse, and at one point startled a drowsy heron, who was quite put out by the scare and who expressed his displeasure in a great many words before flying off in a huff; until at last the sun sank low in the sky, and it was time for the two animals to make a start for home, and to supper, and, all in all, the day came to a satisfactory conclusion.


End file.
